If There's Love
by justsomebrittanagleek
Summary: It's a well known fact that fifty percent of all marriages end with separation. Santana just never thought she and Brittany would fit into that figure.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **If There's Love (Just Feel It)  
**Characters: **Santana Lopez, Brittany Pierce, Sam Evans, Quinn Fabray  
**Rating: **R/NC-17  
**Length: **9.1k**  
****Summary:** It's a well known fact that fifty percent of all marriages end with separation. Santana just never thought she and Brittany would fit into that figure.

**Notes: **Had some angsty feelings, and this idea's been bouncing around for a while. Title from James Morrison's _I Won't Let You Go. _Unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own.

/

It's a well known fact that fifty percent of all marriages end with separation.

Santana just never thought she and Brittany would fit into that figure.

They were married for nine years before things started getting weird, and only a year later they were separated and Santana was moving out into a studio apartment in the the Chicago's city center, days after her 34th birthday, whilst Brittany stayed in their old house in the cute little cul-de-sac they found in Oak Park, a few miles out of the city with their six year old daughter, Elena.

In some ways, Santana wishes there were some big significant reason for them splitting up, but there wasn't really just one. There was a many little problems that built up to create this massive pile that eventually they just couldn't sweep under the rug anymore. That was their way of dealing with their arguments in the end after they found out yelling at each other in the early hours of the morning only disturbed Elena, and she guesses it just got too hard for them to recover from after they stopped talking about it and started hiding all the reasons they were pissed at each other.

The arguments sort of went in the wrong direction anyway. They started off big and in the end, consisted of tiny little things that were honestly, kind of petty now she looks back on it. The big ones were Santana getting home late after having to do overtime at work, never being around at home on the weekends when she had it off, and then there were the little ones that were like, washing the dishes, or not picking up the mail when she walked in the door.

But no matter how petty or big they were, they all just stacked on top of each other. And neither Santana nor Brittany wanted couples counseling, Santana's reasons routing down to her stubbornness, and Brittany's being down to her humiliation of not being able to make the marriage work herself.

Though that just lead to them finally sitting down together and coming to the conclusion that it just wasn't working.

And that's when Santana suggested they separate for a while.

Which was without doubt, the stupidest thing she's ever done. She just didn't know at that moment.

But in later months, that would slowly come to her attention.

/

It's been six weeks now since the separation, and they've both come up with a routine for Elena that fits the both of them.

On Mondays, Thursday and every other Friday, Santana would pick Elena up from school, take her back to her apartment, cook them dinner, watch a movie with her and then Brittany would come and pick her up from the house and take her home.

On Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and most weekends, Brittany would take Elena and they'd just get on as normal.

It was okay, it worked for them, and Santana was cool with not having Elena most weekends because she'd have to work anyway. Being a lawyer was hard work and there was no point in working from home, having her daughter with her but not being able to spend any time with Elena, so she pointed that out to Brittany and they wrote it down.

It was all going well. There was no talk of a divorce, no talk of getting back together either but as long as there was no mentions of the 'd' word, Santana wasn't really worrying, and she and Brittany still got on like the best friends they were back when they were teenagers. There wasn't any awkwardness between them, they still hugged each other when they arrived at each others houses, still sat down for a cup of coffee when they were picking up or dropping off Elena, and they would still talk like everything was completely fine.

That was until one day in August, though, and when that day came, everything changed.

/

It's a Friday night, and Santana doesn't have Elena today because she had her last Friday which makes her a little sad but on the good side, she gets to spend all Sunday with her so she's just looking forward to that. Alfie, her chocolate Labrador, is spread out across her lap, his legs twitching against the sofa as he dreams and Santana's running a hand over the smooth fur of his back, watching an episode of Scrubs when her phone rings.

Not thinking any different, she reaches out, making sure not to disturb Alfie and grabs her cell, quickly pulling to her ear when she sees Brittany spread across the screen.

"Hey, Britt. Everything okay?"

_"San? Hey. I, uh... Are you doing anything?"_

Santana sits up, gently pushing Alfie off her lap. She can hear the concern in Brittany's voice and furrows her brows at it. "Nope. No plans for tonight. Everything okay?"

_"Yeah, I just—Is there any chance you can take Elena tonight, please?"_

She tucks a hand beneath her arm, stands and moves into the kitchen, away from the noise of the TV. "Of course. Is everything okay?"

_"Huh? No, yeah... Everything's fine. Something's just... Popped up."_

Having known Brittany for more than three decades, Santana knows when something's up. She knows what Brittany sounds like she worried, scared, happy, sad, excited, turned on and hell, Santana even knows what her wife sounds like when she's freaking cold. Which is why she knows that right now, Brittany's feeling guilty about something.

"Britt," she starts, leaning back against the counter. "You can tell me if something's wrong," she says, softly. "You know that."

_"No, I know. Nothing's wrong. I just need to go somewhere tonight."_

Santana chews on her lower lip, trying to figure out why Brittany's being like this but she knows forcing it out of her wife will only cause an argument or something and she just doesn't want that right now. They've had enough arguments to last a lifetime so excuse her if she doesn't want another to add to the long, _long_ list of things she regrets. All of which include messing up with Brittany.

"Okay, sure. When are you gonna be here?"

"_We're outside, actually. Can you buzz us in?"_

Santana jerks her head back in surprise but mutters that she will and hangs up. Moments later, (after switching on the coffee pot) she's opening the door just in time to see Brittany and Elena exiting the elevator, Elena already sprinting up the hallway and into Santana's arms, and Brittany trudging behind wearing a long, tan coat that's buttoned up and finishes at her knees, and a small pink backpack slung over her right shoulder.

It's August, so it's not like it's cold enough for a jacket and immediately suspicion buzzes through Santana but she knows it's probably irrational and shrugs it off, ducking down to scoop Elena up (with a little difficulty now Elena's had a growth spurt) and hitch her against her hip.

She flashes a smile at her daughter, kissing her on the temple and boops her nose gently. "Hey, baby," she greets.

"Hey, mami!" Elena chirps and kisses Santana back on the cheek, right where her dimple is which makes her grin grow and a chuckle burst through her lips. "I'm staying over tonight!"

Santana nods excitedly back, shifting her further up her hip. "I know, kiddo. We're gonna have so much fun!" She whispers the last part as if it's supposed to be a secret and Elena just flashes the happiest grin back. She definitely got that from Brittany, along with her bright blue eyes.

Footsteps make their way down the hall and Santana turns just as Brittany get closer, her smile a little too forced and eyes flashing with something indecipherable. She meets bright blue and nods in lieu of a greeting, crouching onto the floor to gently lower Elena to it in order to hug her wife. Elena pouts up at her, but she just strokes a hand lovingly over her dark hair and scrunches her nose.

"Sorry, baby girl. You're getting big now so mami can't hold you for that long."

Elena's brows push together, arms crossing over her chest and Santana and Brittany both laugh, knowing _exactly _which mom that came from. "Maybe you should go to the gym and do some weights then," the little girl suggests and Santana raises both eyebrows.

"Well look at Miss Mouthy over here!" She jokes. "Now scamper off inside, Squirt. Alfie's asleep on the sofa and needs feeding soon so guess who gets to wake him up?"

Elena's eyes grow wide, face breaking out into a grin and she bounces excitedly in the spot before sprinting off into the living room, disappearing behind a sofa. Santana laughs, presses her hand to her chest and twists back around to see Brittany standing there, smiling into the apartment. Their eyes meet a second later and Santana steps out into the hallway, opening her arms, ready for a hug. It's how they greet so it's not any different.

Except the second her arms go around Brittany's waist, Brittany's arms wrapping around her neck, she realizes that Brittany's body is a little frigid, her hug a little looser than usual and Santana narrows her eyes against her wife shoulder, turning her head only to smell the heavy application of perfume. And _not _the one Santana always buys her at Christmas and on their mid-year anniversary.

She pulls back out the hug, confusion etching across her features and takes a step back to look at the other woman properly.

"You going somewhere special?" She asks, laughing a little but mostly serious. Brittany never wears a different perfume.

"No," Brittany fires back but it's a little too quick. Santana narrows her eyes and blue eyes flicker away, guiltily. "Just out for dinner with a few friends."

There's really no reason to be as suspicious as she is, but it still lingers within Santana's chest. She leans against the door frame, crossing her arms over her chest and looks over Brittany's body for a few seconds, suddenly noticing the blue sparkly material hiding beneath the tan coat and immediately knows it's a dress. One of the fancier ones, too. They've shared a wardrobe since they started living together thirteen years ago so she knows exactly what items of clothing Brittany has, and _that _dress is one that she's only ever worn twice. Once on their second anniversary (admittedly it wasn't on her for _that _long that night but she still wore it) and the other time was when they went to New York for Quinn's thirtieth birthday.

So why is Brittany lying? She only wears this dress on special occasions.

But she doesn't want to seem so possessive. So instead she just goes with the usual bit she says now.

"You wanna come in for coffee?" She offers with a smile. "Got some ready for you."

Brittany thumbs the tie of her jacket and shakes her head, biting down on her bottom lip. "No, thanks. I'm already late, so."

Santana lets her eyes flicker across her wife's face, taking in the way blue eyes are pointedly _not _looking at her, the way sharp, white teeth are gnawing nervously at the inside of her cheek and how Brittany's shifting her weight from one leg to the other. There's something going on and Santana knows it, but one of the reasons—built up up top of the hundreds of other reasons—was that Santana tended to get a little clingy at times.

It was justified in her opinion because Brittany was (and still is) beautiful, funny, kind, caring and flirtatious at the best of times, and Santana somehow was lucky enough to have been chosen by that angel, and for that angel to fall in love with her too. So of course she'd be a little possessive at times, but that caused a few arguments in the past so right now it's probably not best if she says anything.

"Right, okay," she settles on, pushing off from the frame. "Have a good night, Britt."

Brittany flashes a weak smile. "Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow."

Santana nods and watches her wife as the blonde walks away and steps into the elevator cart when it comes. The entire way, she can't seem to focus on anything but this tugging feeling in her chest.

/

A week goes by and nothing's different. Brittany hasn't rung her and asked at late notice for Elena to stay over and no more has been spoke about the dress and events of last Friday night.

But then that changes one Thursday when Santana picks Elena up from school.

She stands outside her car, tugging each side of her jacket closer because now it's September and there's a bitter chill in the air, and watches the school entrance the second the bell goes. Kids seem to flow straight out of it, hundreds, thousands even, and Santana scans across them, trying to spot her little girl which, eventually, she does.

Elena hugs her when she reaches her, and Santana reciprocates it, telling her that she's missed her and then helps her into the car. She rounds to the drivers seat, jumping in and blasts hot air through the car when she hears Elena's teeth chatter from beside her, but then switches on the ignition and peels away from her parking space.

"So, kiddo, how was school?"

Elena kicks her legs against the edge of the seat. "It was okay, but Mrs. Palmer gave Jamie a time out because he pushed Olivia when she called me stupid."

Knuckles turning white against the steering wheel, Santana forces the anger away. Killing a kid probably wouldn't be a good idea. "You're not stupid, baby," she says with a calming voice, even though everything inside her is definitely _not _calm. "You're very clever and don't you ever forget that, okay?"

Elena nods and smiles up at her. "Mommy said that to me when I told her."

"Mommy?" Santana repeats, jerking her head back as they cut through the streets of Chicago. "When did you talk to her?"

"She came into school at lunch."

Brows furrowing, Santana pries on. "Why did she come into school?"

"I forgot my lunch," Elena explains, grinning as she looks out the window. "And she bought Mr. Evans lunch, too."

Something cold drops in Santana's stomach and she stops breathing. It hitches in her throat, threatening to choke her but she doesn't care because all she can focus on is Brittany and this _Mr. Evans? _Who the hell is that anyway? And what the _fuck _is Brittany doing giving him lunch?

"Who's Mr. Evans, El?"

Elena turns her head to Santana as they pull up at a red light, meeting dark eyes. "He teaches the other class in my grade," she says with a smile. "He's _real_ nice."

Forcing indifference and no reaction, Santana nods and tries to breath again. But there's still this weird lump in her throat and she tries everything she can, taking a sip of the bottle of water stashed in the door, coughing loudly, swallowing more than usual and even rubbing her throat and retching, but it remains there. The red light goes green and she shifts the car into drive, not knowing what else to say.

Because Brittany wouldn't do that to her.

Would she?

/

The same thing happens the next week, both on the Monday and the Thursday.

Santana picks Elena up, hugging her and helping her into the car. She asks the same questions, and when she gets to the one about how school was, Elena tells her that Brittany came in again to drop lunch off for Mr. Evans. The lump grows inside her throat as she listens to her daughter speak, and Elena goes on and on about Mr. Evans and how awesome he is. And even though Santana doesn't even know who this guy is, why Brittany's dropping lunch off for him or if he's even a decent guy, she sort of already fucking hates him.

Elena just speaks so highly of him, and tells Santana about how she went to go and 'see mommy for a hug 'cause she hurt her knee' but 'mommy was already hugging Mr. Evans so he must have been sad,' and honestly, Santana doesn't really care. She does in the way that Brittany's her damn wife and she's dropping off lunch for some douche at Elena's school, but she doesn't care in the way that she doesn't want to know what's going on between them.

Except she does, and so on the Friday when it happens again, Santana decides she needs to start poking around for details.

Elena's sitting on the opposite side of the kitchen table, coloring pencils, pens and paper spread out across the top in front of her when Santana decides its time. She knows if she wants to ask any questions, Elena won't get suspicious about why she's asking them because she's on the computer. Plus, Elena won't disturb her because whenever 'mami's' on the computer, she's in work mode.

(She just won't tell Elena she's stalking a teacher at her school because she's suspicious.)

Google allows her to find the schools website immediately, and when she gets onto it, she wonders if the children have a say in the design of it because it's pretty simplistic. Then again she supposes not a lot of people would go on an elementary school website, so. Anyway, she gets onto the website and finds all the grades separated into different buttons to the left hand of the page and finds Elena's first grade section, clicking on it until it comes up with a brief description of the two teachers with their names hyphenated with a link.

And that's when she sees his name for the first time: _Samuel Evans._

By now, her heart's beating so hard and heavy against her ribcage that it feels like it could burst straight through, but she keeps it cool, knowing she might be jumping to conclusions and that her daughter's sitting less than a meter away which means she can't get angry or burst into tears without revealing her suspicions about Brittany and this guy.

Her mouse hovers over _Mr. Sam Evans _and with a deep breath, she clicks it, squeezing her eyes shut and waiting three seconds before she opens them to find his own personal page up on screen. There's a picture of him in the top right hand corner, and she examines him deeply. He must be around the same age as she is, maybe a little younger, and he's got short, dark blonde hair, smoothed back. He wears black rimmed glasses and has lips so big it'd put Pete Burns to shame, but she can't deny that actually, somehow he manages to be strangely cute. For a teacher.

There's a little description to the left of the picture, saying how he went to Murray State after moving from Ohio to Kentucky as a teenager, and how he managed to fight dyslexia to become a teacher. But that's not really what she's focused on. No, instead she's focused on the group picture of the first grade at the bottom of the page, revealing Elena's teacher 'Mrs. Dorothy Palmer' and her entire class, standing next to Mr. Evans and his whole class.

Because in that picture, she can see his entire body, but most of all, she can see how bare all his fingers are on his left hand.

"He's not married," she breathes to herself and across the table, Elena looks up.

"What, mami?"

Santana coughs, unaware she spoke out loud. "Uh, nothing, baby," she straightens up in her chair. "Keep coloring. You missed Aladdin's shoes," she points out and immediately, Elena turns her attention to the Disney coloring book.

Her eyes drift back to the picture and she eyes him up. He's attractive, looks rather athletic and has a stupidly charming smile that makes her want to give into the irrational urge to punch something. Preferably Mr. Evans, actually. But she can't. She doesn't even know this guy and this curdling jealously within her caused by the thought that Brittany spends every lunch with this guy is completely unreasonable. She could be worrying for nothing.

For some reason though, she doesn't think it is for nothing.

She sits back in her chair, swallowing harshly against the lump in her throat and just continues to stare at the picture until Elena tells her she's thirsty.

/

Later on, Brittany comes over to pick Elena up.

Santana opens the door to her smiling wife, holding Alfie back with her left foot, and forces a smile back as she steps aside to let the blonde in, hand latching onto Alfie's collar. Blue eyes hover over her face for a beat too long, and she knows instantly that Brittany knows something's up. Not only did they not hug but Santana hasn't even said anything to her, instead crossing her arms over her chest and ducking her sight to the floor. Not because she's rude, but because she doesn't know how to say anything apart from 'who's Sam?' along with another flurry of jealousy fueled questions.

Luckily though, Brittany doesn't say anything about it, instead preoccupies herself with picking up their daughter and hugging her. Santana just pats Alfie on the head after Brittany has and lets him run back into the apartment.

"Hey, little one," Brittany says and kisses Elena on the head. "How was your evening with mami?"

Elena grins a toothless smile. "It was awesome. I completed coloring in Aladdin," she says with pride and a buffed out chest.

Brittany giggles and Santana shifts in her spot, a little withdrawn from this conversation as her mind's elsewhere. Brittany senses it and looks to her, eying her curiously for a long moment before dropping Elena back to the floor and pressing a kiss to the top of her hair again.

"Go get your stuff, El," she says and Santana sucks in a deep breath as she walks over to the back of the sofa and leans against it, lowering her hands to grab at the edge.

Silence settles between them and Santana flexes her fingers against the leather, preparing herself to say what she has to. Or rather to ask. She doesn't really know how to approach this situation at all. On one hand she could have the completely wrong idea, but on the other, her worst fears and these escalated thoughts could be spot on in which case... Well, she doesn't really want to think about that.

Brittany stares at her, lips sucked into her mouth and she knows she's waiting for her to say something, to tell her why she didn't hug her, didn't say hello and has been silent since the second Brittany walked in, but can you really blame Santana? Her wife... Her _soul mate _could be dating someone. And sure, they may not be together, but they're only separated. They're not completely divorced and Santana doesn't think they will be. She doesn't want to divorce Brittany because she's still madly in love with her. Just as in love with her as the moment she accepted it when she was fifteen, for fucks sake. Love like theirs doesn't change.

That's the case for Santana, anyway.

"Are you gonna tell me why you're being like this?" Brittany finally says, slicing the silence in half.

Santana tips her head up, looking through her lashes to meet bright blue. "Are you gonna tell me why you're going to El's school everyday?"

Clearly it wasn't what her wife was expecting because Brittany's head jolts a little, eyes widening and it's only a second, and only for half of one, but Santana still sees the guilt flicker over her face. "What?"

"El said she sees you at lunch everyday now," Santana tells her, reciting what her daughter said. Brittany just looks at her expressionless. "Why?"

Blue eyes finally break contact, darting away and Brittany chews on her bottom lip, shuffling on her spot and rubbing her right hand up her straightened left arm. And because Santana's been an A+ student in Brittany-ology for over two decades, she knows that means Brittany's hiding something. Yet Brittany pretends like that's not true and instead comes up with a lie.

"Yeah... I've just been popping in for a bit to help out."

And that's when Santana knows that she _isn't _overreacting. Brittany's purposely hiding 'Mr. Evans' or 'Sam' and Brittany never hides anything form Santana. Not unless it's something she knows Santana isn't going to want to know about.

"So it has nothing to do with Sam, then?"

Brittany's head snaps up so fast Santana's worried it might have momentarily suspended from her neck. "What?" The blonde almost gasps, her eyes narrowing as she processes Santana's words. "How do you know Sam?"

A dry, bitter laugh pushes past her lips before she can stop it. So it is first name basis, then. "I don't," she admits, ignoring the way her heart's beating irregularly inside of her and how it feels like someone's rubbing sand paper down the inside of her throat. "But apparently you know him well enough to bring him lunch everyday, eat it with him and hug him."

The sound of the gulp Brittany produces is so loud that Santana almost jerks her head back, but she doesn't, and instead stares at Brittany, knowing she's going to hate what's coming. She can feel it inside of her, she can feel her mind and body preparing itself for emotional pain and she lifts her chin, trying to show that she's staying strong. The thing she hates most though is that she's not angry at what's coming. She's hurt, and it's making her feel all types of vulnerable which she just really fucking _hates._

Whenever it's come to Brittany though, she's never been able to be angry. Other people have hurt Santana in the past, and anger has been her natural reaction, but with Brittany it's nothing like that. Brittany's been the _only _person to effect her like this. To really _hurt _her and when she does, it cripples Santana emotionally. It makes her heart thump unevenly, her breathing hitch and stutter and it not only effects her emotionally, but it hurts her physically.

She really fucking hates that, too.

"He's... He's just a friend, San," Brittany tries to tell her but Santana's not having this. She doesn't want to be lied, too.

"Don't give me that, Britt."

Brittany looks down guiltily, her brow pinching together in the middle of her forehead. Their eyes lock and Santana stares at her, wishing her to say something that isn't going to break her but she knows that isn't going to happen, and eventually, Brittany breaks the eye contact, ducking her chin to her chest and shaking her head, sounding so damn small when she speaks that it makes Santana's fists curl against her jeans.

"I don't know what you want me to say," the blonde whispers and Santana closes her eyes. She was right. _Fuck._

Then the question she knows she shouldn't have asked just pours out before she can stop it. "Are you sleeping with him?"

Truth is, she has absolutely nothing inside of her that wants to know. She knows there's something between this guy and Brittany now, and that's enough for her to take. She has zero interest in knowing what they are, or what they do or have done. She doesn't want to know whether the woman she's been sleeping with for the past nineteen years, the woman she gave her heart to nineteen years ago and the woman she gave her eternal devotion to, is fucking someone else.

But the question still came out, and now it's just there, hovering between them, and Santana wishes she could just reach out and grab them, shoving them back into her pocket as if they were never spoken.

Brittany snaps her head up again fast, her eyes narrowing and face looking genuinely offended. "No, Santana," she replies, voice hard and serious. "How can you ask that?"

A wave of guilt crashes over Santana and she realizes how inappropriate that question was. Offensive too. She lowers her head, eyes darting down to her sock covered foot as it skims across the hardwood floor. Her hands shift against the back of the sofa as she leans her butt further onto the sofa, supporting herself as she sheepishly whispers, "Sorry... I─That was out of line."

Brittany lets out a deep breath and shakes her head. "It was but... No. I'm not─I'm not _sleeping _with him," she says.

And Santana should be happy about that. She should be happy that her wife isn't sleeping with someone else but she isn't. Because the way Brittany said it... She didn't say she wasn't just sleeping with him. She _emphasized _that she wasn't _sleeping _with him and Santana knows Brittany's not stupid. She knows just how crafty her wife can be and knows that she did that for a reason.

Which is why she looks up, meets blue eyes and says, "So if you're not _sleeping _with him... What _are _you doing with him?"

And then comes the silence.

/

Silence, ironically, can actually speak more volumes than words can. It can be powerful, it can be heavy and it can most definitely break someone because sometimes words just can't do a situation justice. Sometimes that can be good. Sometimes it can be amazing and Santana knows that because back when they were teenagers, back when they were in love, Santana never used to be able to express her love for Brittany and ended up just using her actions instead.

But now isn't one of those times. Now isn't one of those good speechless moments because it's the kind of silence that reaches inside Santana's chest, fists her heart and yanks it hard against her ribcage until she almost doubles over from the pain. It's the kind of silence that speaks so much more than words could ever do because Brittany's staring at her, blue eyes pleading with her as she takes a step forward, her bottom lip quivering and Santana can't handle it. She can't be that close to Brittany, knowing she's _dating _someone else. Knowing Brittany's _kissed _someone else when Santana thought she was going to be the only person she ever kissed.

And so she chokes. She chokes, blinking back the heat prickling at her eyelids and presses a fist to her mouth as the pain slices through her, hot and sharp. She desperately fights the stinging, wishing that she won't cry and takes a step to the side on instinct when Brittany moves closer, and forces herself not to focus on the hurt that flashes across blue eyes at the motion.

"San..." Brittany whispers, voice cracking. "San, I'm sorry—"

Not wanting to hear anymore, Santana twists her neck, vision drifting away and shakes her head furiously, her throat thickening and that lump doubling in size. Images of Brittany and this _Sam _flash through her mind, and all she can think about is whether or not Sam makes Brittany laugh the way she used to. Whether Sam makes Brittany smile the way she used to and whether Brittany smiles at Sam the way Brittany would only ever smile at Santana.

With those thoughts floating through her mind, she feels the tears get too much, the pain get too much and grasps at her chest, fisting the fabric of her shirt and pressing down hard like it'll relieve some of this feeling inside her. It's like someone's clawing at her throat, ripping out her heart and she's not sure how to deal with this. Never before has she felt such pain. There was the whole Artie debacle back in high school but that's _nothing _in comparison to this. Santana always knew Brittany would come to her, deep down, that they would get married someday but now? Now this is different. They're adults, they're grown up, they _were _in love and fuck, what if Brittany is Santana's 'one' but Santana isn't Brittany's.

Before, back when the words _I love you I do, but _were exchanged, Santana _knew _that Brittany loved her. She knew it, and she was sure that despite Brittany dating that _stupid boy _that Brittany would soon come back to her. They would end up together and they did because Santana was so damn sure of her place in Brittany's life, in Brittany's heart. She was _so _damn sure, just like Brittany was with her.

But now... Now Santana isn't so sure. Santana isn't entirely sure that Brittany loves her anymore because Brittany's with Sam.

"San—"

"Don't."

She manages to get it out through a broken whimper, and her eyes flit up just in time to catch Brittany's as a tear drips from blue eyes. But at the same time, Elena barrels into the room, clutching way too many bags for her size and comes to a stop in the gap between them—a gap that feels bigger than every right now—and looks at them with growing confusion. Yet Santana can't tear her vision away from Brittany, can't tear it away because she thought this separation was temporary. She thought it was just something that'd go on for a month, maybe two, but then they'd get over their differences and kiss and make up.

She just never considered Brittany finding someone else.

"Mommy?" Elena calls, looking to Brittany. "Mami?" She then says, neck twisting and eyes darting to Santana. "Are you okay?"

Mustering every bit inside of her that isn't focused on the heartbreak, the pain, Brittany or a combination of them, she manages to break the eye contact with Brittany, swiftly wiping away the tear forming at the corner of her eye with the back of her finger and forces a smile as she looks down at her daughter. "No, baby. Everything's fi—is fine," her voice cracks and she sees Brittany wince in her peripheral vision, knowing the reason for it. She sits up, inhaling deeply and hopes her smile isn't too watery. "Are you ready to go with mommy?"

"Yes, mami," Elena chirps, grinning brightly back. She holds one of her bags up to Brittany, but she stays unresponsive, still staring at Santana with glossy blue eyes and a tear, slowly making its way down her cheek. "Mommy?"

Finally, Brittany shakes herself out of it, swallowing audibly and not even bothering in wiping away the tear as she takes a bag from Elena, forcing a smile on her face as she slings them over her shoulder and reaches down to take Elena's hand. "Let's go," she says, her voice hoarse like she's about to cry. Santana feels no sympathy, though.

"Bye, mami," Elena murmurs, reaching up with her other hand, wiggling her fingers to gesture for a hug.

Santana, keeping the too-forced smile on her face, half-leans down, knowing she can't fully hug her daughter because she'll touch Brittany, and hugs her daughter. Elena doesn't seem bothered by the half-assedness in her hug and tugs Brittany toward the front door. This is the part where Santana usually hugs Brittany, but she can't stand being so close to the woman she loves when someone else has been touching her so she crosses her arms over her chest, hugging tightly—trying to keep herself together—and watches the rejection flit over Brittany's face as she takes note of her stance.

Brittany passes her, and Santana tries not to inhale, knowing how good Brittany smells, and scratches her eyebrow, now unable to look her wife in the eye as her family step over the threshold into the doorway. Elena whispers, "bye, mami," and pulls on Brittany's hand, and all Brittany can muster, fully knowing that Santana is purposely not looking at her, whispers, "bye, Santana," before they move toward the elevator.

Remarkably enough, Santana manages to get the door shut before she crumbles, slumping down against it and just lets the sobs break from her chest.

/

The next morning she gets up bright and early, choosing to go out for a run as she knows emotionally she isn't going to feel better any time soon, and exercise always makes her feel better physically so that'll have to do.

Alfie barks at her when she's putting her running shoes on, and she reaches over to pat him on the head quickly, knowing he knows they're about to go for a walk. She jumps up, stretching quickly in the living room and then grabs Alfie's leash from the kitchen table before clipping it on and skipping out the door with him and down into the stairwell. Luckily, this is one of the apartment buildings that lets you have pets and honestly, she's really fucking happy she can. Alfie wasn't planned, but it was the best decision of her life, and she sort of has Elena to thank for that.

Elena was the one that wanted a dog, and Santana and Brittany always planned to get one when Elena got a little older and their work schedules were a little less hectic, but then it just never came around. Of course the separation happened shortly after, and on just a week of living alone, Santana realized how much it sucked. She didn't like it, she hated the eery silence and lack of conversation and so she went to the nearest rescue home and found Alfie, smiling up at her with his tongue hanging out behind the kennel door. It was pretty much love at first sight, and even though he was only eight weeks old and therefore still a puppy, she decided to get him anyway.

He's not fully grown yet, definitely bigger but not fully grown, but he's so good. He does just as he's told, she's taught him countless tricks and he's like her best friend, if she's honest. He seems to sense whenever she's down because when she cries at night sometimes, he hops up from his basket and sleeps on the bed with her. He always nuzzles into her whenever she's feeling a little down or lonely, and he's just generally there for her. Hell, they even have freaking conversations. Obviously they're one-sided, and Santana's not crazy, she knows Alfie doesn't talk back but it feels like he understands her sometimes.

Although now she's thinking about it, she does think that sounds a little crazy but he's kept her on track. Ever since she and Brittany split up she's been one hot mess, but Alfie's made it a little easier.

(With the bitterness still lingering within her, she comes up with the thought that maybe Brittany went for Sam to keep her on track instead of a dog.

That's just typical Brittany though.

Pets aren't the same as humans and even though Brittany used to talk to her damn cat all the time, she always needed a human to ground her when she was sad.

Apparently Santana's the opposite, but that makes sense considering Santana's not really a 'people person' and Brittany most definitely is.)

Anyway, they both go out for a run and it's just like any other typical Saturday. Well, it _was_ just a typical day until she sees a certain someone from across the park.

She doesn't recognize him at first, just lets her eyes glaze over toward the vendor where he's standing as she runs. Alfie jogs beside her, seeming incredibly happy that it's sunny and that he's out, and she doesn't think anything more of it. But the closer she gets, the more she recognizes him. It's slow at first, just noticing an attractive guy in the park buying an ice cream—she may be gay but she's not blind—but then with each step and exhale, she slowly notices that she knows this guy from somewhere. Her steps slow, her eyes narrowing and when she gets close enough that if she called his name in a normal speaking voice, he'd turn around, she realizes _just _who he is.

Mr. Evans.

Sam.

He's right there, in the middle of the park on a Saturday, buying two ice creams and a bottle of water.

She completely stops, about ten meters away from him, hidden slightly behind a tree and Alfie looks up at her at her feet. If he were a human, he'd be asking her what the fuck she's doing, but instead he just tugs on the lead with his teeth and she yanks it back quickly until he cowers and stills completely, panting heavily and letting his tongue roll out the side of his mouth.

But she's not exactly focused on that. Instead, she's looking at this guy, feeling anger curdle within at the sight of him because _this _is the guy that her _wife _is dating. _This _is the guy that _knows _Brittany is married and still chooses to overlook that and date Brittany anyway. _This _is the guy that's probably going to be the cause the end of her fucking marriage and damn, she has the right mind to go over there and show him just how much she fucking _hates _him.

That's before she notices the vendor sprinkle raspberry sauce over the ice creams, and then crumble a chocolate flake over both too, and registers exactly who used to love their ice cream like that, and who they passed it down to.

And that's when Brittany and Elena come into view.

Santana's sure her heart stops beating the moment she sees them. They must have come from somewhere, but she didn't notice because she was too focused on Sam. They walk over toward him, grinning and laughing about something and Santana's chest clenches as she sees Sam twirl around and flash them a toothy (or lippy) grin. Brittany's eyes instantly light up and Elena begins skipping as the vendor hands Sam two ice creams and then he bends down to Elena's height to hand one over.

They look like the perfect family, the happy family that are always shown in commercials and it hits Santana how much she doesn't fit in there. She feels like an outsider, standing here with her dog whilst Brittany's clutching onto Elena's hand and then Sam's handing Brittany an ice cream, flashing her a wink and making her fucking _giggle. _Santana feels like she's standing on the other side of the glass, pawing at it helplessly whilst she watches Sam take away the only things in her life she's ever loved.

Yet she can't do a thing about it.

After the vendor hands Sam a bottle of water, he hands over a ten dollar bill and walks away (without taking the change) toward Brittany, sliding his arm around her waist and pulling her into his side as he leans in to kiss her cheek. Brittany flutters her eyelashes at him, and Santana swears she hears her heart ripping in two right then as her wife, her daughter, her _family _walk away with some random guy.

She lets her head hang as the feeling punches her in the gut, but she can do nothing but dwell on the feeling as Alfie nuzzles against her leg.

Maybe it's time she let Brittany go.

/

She doesn't bring that day in the park up when she sees Brittany later that day. She just forces a smile, knowing their relationship is a lost cause and goes with the flow. Brittany doesn't question the sadness even though she can definitely see it and instead diverts the question with a hug when she comes in and a hug when she says goodbye and shortly, it feels like they're settling down again. Settling down into the place where they can be friends again, because even though it's not what Santana wants, its the only thing they can be and so she'll take that.

She can't live in a world without Brittany, even if they're not together she just has to be near her. It's just like gravity pulls them toward each other.

Brittany leaves after dropping Elena off with a kiss to the cheek, and Santana doesn't even feel the skin tingle anymore because she knows where those lips have been. Instead she forces a smile, leans against the door with Elena propped against her hip and tries not to cry as she watches Brittany walk down the hallway and wave at them as she steps into the elevator.

Santana doesn't even want to know why Brittany asked to keep Elena for the night, in fact she's done just about everything to make sure she _doesn't _think about that and instead puts all her focus on spending the night with her daughter instead. She and Elena color, cook dinner together, watch some TV together and laugh until their stomachs hurt—well, until Elena complains about hers—but soon the time comes for Elena to go to sleep.

And it's when she's tucking her daughter in that Elena says something completely unexpected that Santana's forced to think about why she gets the privilege of looking after her daughter for the night.

"Mami?" Elena chirps. "Why is mommy going to the theater with Mr. Evans tonight?"

Santana freezes, her hands stilling at the edges of the comforter she was pulling up Elena's body and looks at her daughter. "Wh—What?"

Elena tilts her head to the side, brows pushing together. "Mommy and Mr. Evans. They're going out tonight. That's why I'm here," she points out and Santana has to bite down on her tongue, creating physical pain so she doesn't focus on the emotional one.

"Yeah, baby. They're just... Mommy wanted to go, I guess," she offers, lamely. It's the only thing she's got.

"But why didn't you go?" Her daughter asks, her voice softening. "Why didn't you go together?"

Santana continues tugging the comforter up and folds it beneath Elena's shoulders to keep her warm. She tries to keep a straight face but she can feel it getting hotter, her eyes stinging with tears, too. "You know we're not together, sweetie," she murmurs, hating the way those words slice through her, sharp as a knife.

"Why's that, mami?"

She bites down hard on her bottom lip and perches on the side of the bed, stroking over Elena's features; her tiny nose, resembling her own, thin lips, resembling Brittany's and big bright blue eyes, resembling... Well, that's not hard to guess. Her daughter's just so beautiful, a part of both her and Brittany and she hates that she's having to have this talk right now. It's been under two months since she split up with Brittany and she knew it was coming, she just didn't want to face it.

"Sometimes when two people love each other, things get..." She searches her mind and wets her lips. "They get... Problematic." Elena scrunches her face up in confusion, so she continues. "Problems happen in some marriages, sweetie, and sometimes you just... You just can't sort them out," she whispers, swallowing thickly. "That's why we're not together."

Not seeming at all happy with the answer, Elena folds her arms over her chest and pouts. "Then why is mommy with Mr. Evans? Don't they have problems?"

"Not like me and your mommy do, baby," she replies, forcing the weakest of smiles. "But I don't know why they're together," she explains, hanging her head slightly and repeating, "I just don't know," mostly to herself.

"But she still loves you," her daughter chimes in and Santana looks up, holding that weak smile on her face. She doesn't know how to explain this to Elena without hurting her. She doesn't know what Elena will and won't understand and it hurts, but she knows she's got to say something. _Anything, _to make sure Elena doesn't ask Brittany these same questions. She's not sure Brittany would know what to say either.

"I'm not so sure about that," she tries to explain. "But both of us will _always _love you," she makes her voice a little higher, trying to make her a little happier and she's glad Elena hasn't developed the ability to read her bullshit yet, like Brittany did all those times ago, because that means she can make it seem like there's hope. "And that's—" she boops Elena's nose and scrunches up her face "—All _you _have to worry about, little Miss."

She's about to stand, about to press a kiss to Elena's head when Elena speaks once more, but this time it's something that makes her freeze for an entirely different reason than earlier.

"But she does still love you, I heard her say it the other day."

Santana sucks in her lips, ignoring the way her heart's hammering hard inside her chest and cocks her head to the side. "What?"

"Mommy," Elena elaborates, sitting up slightly. "She still loves you. I heard her the other day when I went into her room after having a nightmare about gummy bears chasing me through the candy floss forest—" Santana chuckles lightly "—and she didn't know I was there and I heard her say it." Her face drops, lip poking out into a pout and Santana's heart clenches at how familiar that expression is. "She was crying."

"Why was she crying?"

Elena looks up through thick lashes but just shrugs. "I don't know, mami. I just heard her whispering how much she missed you and how she wished you were there," she whispers, pinching her lips up at the side.

But that doesn't convince Santana. She's an adult, she's heard people miss others without having feelings for them. You don't need to love someone to miss them and even though her hear clenches at the image of Brittany lying alone on _their _bed, clutching at her chest as she sobs, Santana still says, "Baby, grown ups can miss each other without loving each other."

"Then why did she say it?" Elena continues and Santana almost laughs at how stubborn her daughter is. Never leaving anything until she's got her answer.

"Say what, baby?"

"That she loved you. She said if after she said she missed you. She said _'I love you San, come back'_, and I know she calls you San before 'cause I've heard it," she points out and Santana doesn't have a leg to stand on.

Still, she just smiles and kisses her daughter on the forehead, telling herself not to go to far with this information because it'll only end up with more pain and she honestly doesn't know if she can handle that. "It's time for you to go to sleep," she tells Elena after standing from the bed. She walks over to the door, reaching up press the flick the light switch off but at that moment, Elena calls 'mami' and she turns, meeting her daughters inquisitive eyes. "Yeah, baby?"

"You love mommy, don't you?" Elena asks sleepily as she settles down into bed again, clutching the comforter close to her chest. "You love her, too?"

Santana smiles sadly down at herself, and nods. "More than life itself," she murmurs, knowing there's nothing truer that's ever been said.

That's one thing she's never contested; her love for Brittany. She's never questioned it, not even when they went through that brief stage of breaking up back when she was at college, and that's why when she says it, it hurts so damn much. Never once has love been a problem between the two, it's always been outstanding problems like boys, or distance, but never feelings. Although now she's not so sure, even with this new information.

She flicks off the light switch and reaches for the door. "Night, Elena."

"Night, mami."

And then she shuts the door, leans back against it and lets out a long sigh.


	2. Chapter 2

******Title: **If There's Love (Just Feel It) [2/3]  
******Characters: **Santana Lopez, Brittany Pierce, Sam Evans, Quinn Fabray  
******Rating: **R/NC-17  
******Length: **9.3k**  
********Summary: **It's a well known fact that fifty percent of all marriages end with separation. Santana just never thought she and Brittany would fit into that figure.

/

A month goes by slowly, and Santana doesn't talk to Brittany about any aspect of her dating life and Brittany doesn't talk to Santana about hers either, not that it would matter if she did because Santana's still so hung up over her wife that she can't even _think _about going near another woman, let alone actually trying to _be _with one.

Elena hasn't said anything further about 'Mr. Evans' either, and Santana's really hoping it never went any further than that date at the theater.

(Like, _desperately _hoping.)

Anyway, one cold Winters evening, she's out for a walk with Alfie when she runs into Brittany.

Now, Brittany's beautiful in any season. She's beautiful in Summer with the sun behind her, making her glow like an angel, she's beautiful in Autumn with all the colors of the leaves making her eyes seem bluer than ever, and she's beautiful in Spring when she insists on going to see a lamb being born and her entire face just... Lights up.

But Winter... When it's freezing and each of her breaths come out in small little clouds, and when her cheeks and ears are tinged pink from the cold... _That's _when she's _most _beautiful. When those tiny little flecks of snow fall from the heavens, landing on her freckles or sprinkling in her hair, she's just... It's almost unbelievable that a person can look _that _beautiful and still be real. Still be human.

And Santana's so caught up, just staring at Brittany, dressed in a light jacket, that she doesn't notice that Brittany isn't alone until her company is stepping up beside her, draping a thick coat over her shoulders and pulling it together when he steps in front of her. But then she does notice, then she sees _Sam _doing that and it hits her like a ton of bricks. All the happiness she felt for seeing Brittany like this just seeps straight out of her, replacing with this sharp, ache in the left of her chest.

It seems Brittany must sense it, or hear the hitch in her throat because blue eyes dart around, finally finding dark ones staring back at her and Brittany freezes, and not because of the cold. They stare at each other for a long moment, both breathing heavier than before—it's visible in the cold, too—and Santana's torn between the decision to run or to stay.

But as always, Brittany's been the one to kick into action first because she shrugs off the coat from around her shoulders, smiles apologetically at Sam and strokes his cheek gently before heading towards Santana, shoulders up by her ears and hands buried inside her jacket. Santana wants to say something, wants to spit something about how she should just go back to her date, or make some scathing remark to reduce some of this pain but then Brittany's standing in front of her, less than a meter, looking more beautiful than ever and all words just vanish from Santana's tongue.

"Hey, San," Brittany greets and she begins to drag her hands out her pockets to hug Santana but Santana sees it before it happens and steps back. Brittany's face drops, clearly stinging with rejection but Santana ducks her head, not able to bring herself to see it because feeling it is bad enough.

"Hi, Britt."

"I didn't know you'd be here," the blonde quickly follows, her voice too light, too chirpy for someone who was just caught with their... Whatever the fuck Sam is, by their _wife._

It pisses Santana off because how can Brittany just act like that? Act like everything's fucking fine? It's not. There's a guy no more than fifteen meters down the street with his love-sick eyes glued on her _wife, _a guy who wants to quite obviously bang her _wife _and said wife is acting like it's a o-fucking-kay. Well, no, it's not okay, Santana's pissed and so, goddamnit, she's going to fucking say something.

"Well, Alfie used to like going to the same park—hell, he used to love it—but then one day he just changed and decided he wanted something different," she speaks with a hard voice, her hand gripping Alfie's leash hard as he looks around the street down by her feet. "He decided he wanted to go elsewhere for his needs and so now, despite his old love for the park he just _changed._"

It's clearly a jab, clearly a comment with an underlying meaning about their marriage and Brittany's not stupid, which means she catches up just as quickly as Santana says it and narrows her eyes, nostrils beginning to flare in a way Santana used to find very sexy. In fact, scratch that, she _still _finds it sexy. Fuck.

"It wasn't like that, San," Brittany fires back immediately. "I didn't _go _for something new to get my 'needs'," she says, finger quoting the last word. "It just happened."

Santana clenches her jaw. "Things _don't _just happen like that. You're fucking _married _and dating someone else. Someone that _isn't _your wife."

Blue eyes flash with anger. "_You're _the one that said we should separate!" Brittany points out, increasing the volume her voice but not too much to attract attention. "_You _suggested it!"

"Yeah, I did, Britt," Santana agrees, nodding but shakes her head after as heat spreads through her body. "I suggested we _separate, _not that you should go off and start seeing some other guy you've known for _two fucking months!"_

And that's when she finds out. That's when Brittany's face drops, eyes flickering away, filled with guilt and it hits her. Brittany hasn't known Sam for a month. She's known him for longer.

Pain cuts through her, settling low in her gut like a weight and she shakes her head as tears form in her eyes. But she can't cry. She _won't _cry. That'll show her weakness and even though she knows Brittany would never use that to her advantage, Santana just doesn't want to know that Brittany's making her cry. That's the worse thing she could do, to show her pain.

"It hasn't been two months," she chokes out, swallowing thickly, eyes meeting blue ones. "Has it?"

Brittany stays silent, but that silence is enough of an answer. It sucker punches Santana and she takes in deep, unsteady breaths, ignoring the pain in her hand from where she's holding Alfie's leash too tight.

"How long?"

If anything, Brittany owes her a truth and so she looks up, conveying that exact through the eye contact they're maintaining; and it seems Brittany gets it because she gulps, eyes watery as they roam around Santana's face and then the blonde ducks her head, chin touching her chest and focusing on her boots—new ones, at that—as they kick through the small piles of snow already forming on the pavement.

"It was two weeks after you moved out," she gets out, voice small. "Two weeks and I was really down one day," she whispers and Santana clenches her jaw against the heat that stings her face. It feels like someone just kicked her in the stomach with a steel toe capped boot. "I forgot to pack Elena's lunch and had to go in to drop it off and Sam..." she trails off and Santana forces herself not to wince as Brittany twists her upper torso, eyes flitting backward to gesture to the said man behind them. "I went into the wrong classroom and my eyes were all red and puffy and—He just asked me what was wrong and I started—" the breath catches in her throat and she sucks in her lower, quivering lip as a tear spills over her eye. "I just started crying. "She lifts a shoulder. "And he was there for me... He—He was just there."

Even though the only thing Santana wants to do right about now is cry, she swallows it back and pushes her tongue against her teeth. "How romantic," she spits out, frowning intensely. "He came to your rescue, then. You were upset and he was there at the right time to cheer you up with his anaconda mouth, right?"

"No," Brittany shoots back. "It wasn't like that," she says, anger biting at her tone.

"Then how was it Britt Britt? Huh?"

"He never even kissed me until he knew I was single!" She almost yells.

"But you're not," Santana leans forward, gritting out the words through clenched teeth. "You're not fucking single, Britt! You're _married._"

Blue eyes lock onto hers, darkening with anger. "We're separated!"

"Yeah, _separated!_" She does yell this time, catching the attention of a walker by. She just scowls at him and he tucks his head into his jacket as he scampers off. She looks back to Brittany, still infuriated. "Not fucking _divorced_."

There's a few beats of silence between them, where all she can hear is her and Brittany's heavy breathing, sees it too, but then the frustration of lack of answer gets too much and she squeezes her eyes shut, stepping back and twirling around, lifting one hand up to her hair and running it through it roughly.

"Fuck, Britt! I mean—Are you even happy with him?" She asks, but the second it's out in the air, she wishes she could reach out and take it back.

Because the look on Brittany's face... That's a yes. That's her answer and it hits Santana so hard, she has to gulp back the tears and turn away to wipe away the ones she doesn't manage to fight in time.

Brittany's _happy. _

Brittany's fucking _happy _which means she's moved on and that can only mean one thing for Santana. It means she has to let her go because that's what you do when you love someone, right? When you love someone so much, so unconditionally, you want them to be happy, whether or not that happiness includes you. You have to, because otherwise you don't love them and even though letting Brittany go is the last thing she wants to do, she knows its the right thing.

And that's why all the anger just fizzles straight out of Santana, leaving her with the dull ache to the left of her chest. That's why she's just left with nothing but regret, sadness, loneliness, because Brittany's happy... With someone else.

"You're happy..." she whispers, mostly to herself. "You're happy with him."

But Brittany still gives a small nod, replying, "I am," through a breath.

Santana just bites on her bottom lip, looking up at her wife and holding back the tears as the finality of _them _settles in around the atmosphere. Because this is the end. This is the part where she just walks away, lets go of the thing that holds her and Brittany together emotionally because Brittany's found someone else. Found someone else to make her happy, to make her laugh and smile even though every laugh and smile belongs to Santana.

So she does just that. Without another single word, she nods and turns, walking away and tugging Alfie along with her.

/

Santana goes through two months of weeping over her failed marriage. She spends everyday with this pain, letting it take over her and goes to bed most nights with tear filled eyes. Whenever she sees Brittany she doesn't even look at her. She doesn't even meet her eyes and instead nods to anything Brittany asks, which as the weeks go by, diminishes down to just simple 'hello's' and 'goodbye's.'

It doesn't go from anything further than that and then when one night, Brittany calls up to ask if Santana can have Elena for the weekend, Santana knows it's to do with Sam, to do with him taking Brittany away or some romantic bullshit and she grunts a yes down the phone and hangs up abruptly.

That's the straw that breaks the camels back for Santana, because the next thing she knows, she's calling up Quinn Fabray, old high school friend turned divorce lawyer and asks if there's any way they could meet up for a drink because Santana needs her help. The request doesn't come out of anger, though. She doesn't ask for Quinn's professional skills because Brittany's pissed her off. She asks because that weekend with Elena, she began really thinking about everything. Thinking about how if Brittany's happy, she should stay happy. How Sam might be the better choice and how her feelings are clearly strong enough to stay with Sam after all these months so they're only going to get stronger.

And Quinn agrees, setting up a casual meeting for them down at _Murphy's _bar a few blocks away next week.

The days go by swiftly, and Santana can't look Brittany in the eye now for a completely new set of reasons. She knows she's going behind Brittany's back, and she knows just how Brittany's going to feel when she receives the papers, but it's for the best. Santana knows it is because she _has _to let Brittany go. She has to do it and Brittany can never truly be free if there's something weighing her down.

The night before the meeting with Quinn, Santana takes her wedding ring off for the first time in nine and a half years.

She can't believe they didn't even make a decade.

So the day comes—well, the night—and she's walking briskly down the streets of Chicago to _Murphy's, _a small place down an alley, secluded from the road as it's a members only club. Santana assumes Quinn's a member otherwise this night won't exactly go as planned, and she slides into the bar, spotting Quinn instantly in one of the booths to the side. They greet each other, they hug, and for the first ten minutes they treat this meeting like it's not about something serious, and something that undoubtedly will break Santana's heart.

"So... You and Puck, huh?" Santana sighs, lifting the bottle of beer to her lips. "Who knew."

Quinn laughs, scratches her eyebrow. "Yeah, he's not the same as he used to be."

"Hope not, otherwise you'd be sleeping with a human STD," Santana chimes in and Quinn shoots her a playful glare.

"He's changed... He's... Different," Quinn comments, a twinkle in her eye that Santana's never seen before. "He's matured and... I don't know, I love him."

The statement makes something sink within Santana and she hates to be the downer, but she ends up being it anyway.

"Yeah, well, sometimes love isn't enough."

Hazel eyes flicker to her and Quinn chews on her bottom lip, eyes squinting sympathetically. Santana's fingers curl around the bottle she's grasping. "No, it's not always enough," the blonde says, softly and Santana knows they're about to delve into business by the way Quinn sits up, back straight and chin lifted. "So, why do you need my help?"

Brown eyes stay locked on the empty bottles of beer on the table. "You know why, Q," she sighs and can't hide the sadness in her tone.

"I never—" Quinn swallows and starts again. "I never thought you and Britt would ever—"

"Neither did I," Santana cuts in, going over the commitments they made on their wedding day in her head. _Promise to love and to cherish one another, to love and honor her as long as you both shall live? _"Neither did I," she repeats through a long exhale, mostly to herself. She looks up, making eye contact with the other woman. "But that's why I need you."

"On what grounds?"

Santana takes in a deep breath and wets her lips. For ten minutes she relays everything that happened between them, that caught the separation and halfway through, Quinn reaches over the table and grabs her hand in a comforting manner. It's weird because they never used to do this kind of thing in high school. They've hugged, kissed, slapped each other, a whole plethora of things, but they've never done any of this sentimental crap. They've never had to do this and Santana hates it, but at the same time it's the first type of comfort she's had in weeks, first real contact with another human that she wasn't related to and embarrassingly enough, it's actually welcoming.

It takes a few shots of tequila, a glass of scotch or two before she finishes the story, including the parts about seeing Sam, Brittany and Elena in the park and then later on about how Brittany said she was happy with Sam, but she does and Quinn leans back in the booth, rubbing a hand over her face as she processes it. She looks just as shocked as Santana did and strangely enough, that's also welcoming. Apparently this sudden change in Brittany's feelings isn't just shocking to Santana.

Yet it's Quinn's place to try. She has to try and and comfort Santana because they're friends, which is why she says, "They're just in their honeymoon phase, Santana. Of course they're happy. Once they come out of that phase, Brittany will realize how much she loves you. She'll realize it and come running back."

"That's the thing though," Santana cuts in, leaning forward, elbows bracing on the table and hands cradling her head. "She shouldn't be in the honeymoon phase _at all. _She shouldn't be doing anything but dwelling on the pain and sadness of not being with me," she says, not giving into the tears wanting to push through. "She shouldn't be doing anything but feel as shitty as I do."

Quinn looks at her helplessly, apologetically, and it makes Santana's fist curl against her head because she fucking _hates _that look. The one where Quinn doesn't know what to say because she knows what Santana said is true. The one where she wants to continue trying to convince Santana, but knows herself that it's pointless because what she's saying isn't true. She doesn't know whether Brittany loves Santana or not, and Santana's almost grateful that Quinn doesn't try because it hurts less. Much less.

"So... You want a divorce?"

Santana just lifts a shoulder, even though her immediate response is to shout _hell no. _"No. I don't want a divorce. But if she's happy—if she's happy with someone else—then I'm only holding her back." She shrugs again, twirling the beer bottle in her hand and staring at the liquid slosh around inside. "She doesn't love me, so what's the point in holding on to something that doesn't exist anymore," she breathes, letting her own words settle in, slowly beating at her heart.

"She does love you, Santana."

"Not in the way she used to," she sighs, shaking her head. "Not in the way she used to."

Quinn stays silent, and Santana waits a few seconds before tilting her neck and looking back up to see Quinn give her _that _look again. The one where she wants to argue but can't and Santana doesn't want it, so she stops it before it happens and finishes the rest of her beer in one gulp, setting back in the booth and speaking once more.

"Look, can you just draft up some papers and send them to me? Please?"

In spite of the clear reluctance, Quinn bobs her head and lets out a long exhale. "Yeah, sure. It'll take a while though, seeing as it's only being asked for from one side," she tells Santana who just hums in acknowledgment, not wanting to speak anymore about it. Apparently the blonde gets that though because she coughs, flags down the bartender and waves two fingers as she points to the glass of scotch in hand and then changes the subject. "So, you doing anything for your birthday next month?"

Santana looks up and almost smiles because Quinn remembers, but then that smile quickly falters as she thinks how it's going to be her first official birthday without Brittany. Last year they were at the very brink of separating when Santana's birthday came around, but they kept on the happy face for the party Brittany organized—it was supposed to be a surprise but Brittany was never really that good at keeping secrets—and made it through the night. Only a few days after did they sit down and have a conversation that would soon lead to Santana moving out.

"No," she replies as the bartender comes over and slides two glasses of scotch on to the table. She doesn't see the point in celebrating her birthday if the reason she was born isn't by her side, kissing her on the cheek and telling her she's so glad this day happened all those years ago. "Not this year."

And Quinn doesn't pry anymore, just subtly asks what Santana wants the settlements to be for the divorce, but Santana couldn't really care what she gets out of the divorce.

She doesn't want anything if it means she doesn't get Brittany.

/

A month and a half goes by without a word about the divorce from Quinn.

They talk about other things, meet up a few times and Santana sees Puck for the first time in over a decade. Puck tells her he's got a lady loving friend who she'd like, but Quinn just kicks him under the table—not so subtly—and gives him one of those 'don't say that' looks. Good thing too, because Santana still can't even think about moving on yet. The thought still makes her feel sick to the stomach, guilty too, and she acknowledges how pathetic that is but can't seem to change it.

Anyway, the time goes by but eventually when she comes home late one evening, she checks her mail box to find the divorce papers in a thick, brown envelope. She picks them up and drags herself up the stairs to her apartment, kicking off her shoes when she's inside and slumping down on the sofa with an ice cold beer before she even considers opening the envelope, but then it's all she has to do and she tears it open, ignoring the way it feels like she's tearing something inside of herself as she does it.

Even though she thought long and hard about this moment, even though she considered every possible path that _wouldn't _lead to a divorce, this was the only conceivable option. It will cause unhappiness for her in the long and short run, but Brittany will be free to do whatever she wants and that's pretty much all that matters to Santana.

Her eyes roam over the papers, taking in every word and she feels the tugging deep within her stomach grow and grow the further down the page she goes. It says everything she should, and she hates that in these few pieces of papers is the end of the biggest commitment she's ever and will ever make. She hates that with two tiny little signatures, she can just split something that she thought would be so solid, so permanent.

But the sooner she does it, the sooner she can start moving on.

So with that thought in mind, she grabs her car keys and heads on out, papers in hand.

/

From this position, parked outside her old home, she can see Brittany walk into the living room, wearing dark sweat pants and Santana's old UofL sweatshirt.

It breaks something inside of Santana, and she closes her eyes against the way her heart clenches inside her chest painfully because she didn't even know Brittany kept any of the stuff she left behind.

She didn't know Brittany would even think about wearing it now that she could wear something of Sam's.

Inside the house, Brittany takes a seat on the sofa, clutching a plain white mug in her hand, and Santana smiles to herself, knowing it's green tea at this time of night. It was always Brittany's favorite and making the damn tea was Santana's job every single night.

She did it with no fail for nineteen years of their love, and eight and a half of their marriage, but then work picked up and things just got too busy. She eventually forgot, or passed out before she could make it and even now she wonders if she had continued doing it, she wouldn't be on this side of the glass.

She also knows that Brittany's watching _The Big Bang Theory _now, and not because she knows the television schedule of by heart, but because she can tell by the way Brittany reacts to whatever episode is playing. She always laughs when Penny or Raj make a comment, but she always scrunches her nose up when Sheldon makes an intelligent but incredibly funny joke, because she doesn't get most of them.

Brittany pulls her legs to her chest, throwing her head back laughing and Santana just sighs as she watches her, feeling that lump grown in her throat again. That helpless tugging is back in her chest too and she gulps, suddenly hit with the remembrance that she can't just wander in there now. Can't just pop in, kiss Brittany on the cheek and cuddle up to her until she has to get up to make Brittany another green tea because one was just never enough. She can't just laugh with Brittany, admire the way she crinkles her nose when she laughs or run her hand through soft, golden hair just because she can.

She can't do any of that—anything she wants—because she just doesn't belong here anymore.

With that thought, and a heavy, _heavy _heart, Santana jumps out the car and opens the mail box, sliding the thick brown envelope into it and taking a deep breath as she shuts the flap.

She walks back to the end of the pathway, but just stops to watch Brittany as she's a little closer now. She takes in every little movement, every laugh, every breath of air escape soft pink lips and knows that she'd do anything, fucking _anything _to be in there right now.

But she can't, and she will never again, so she just shoves her hands back into her jeans pockets and walks back to the car.

(She misses the way Brittany's head turns, how Brittany walks to the window and peers out of it because she was sure she felt a familiar pair of eyes on her.

She also misses the way Brittany heads back to the sofa and sits down, tears instantly streaming from her face because she'd do absolutely anything to have someone next to her right now.

Someone with those familiar pair of eyes.)

/

The next evening, Santana's sitting at home with Quinn beside her when there's several rapid, harsh knocks at the front door.

She looks to Quinn, but Quinn just shrugs back because why the hell would she know who it is? Santana doesn't, so someone who doesn't live here wouldn't either.

She gets up from the sofa, sliding her glass of wine on to the coffee table before patting her hands on her jeans and heading toward the door. The second she opens it, she's confused, because Brittany's standing there, hair dripping wet and a more than damp brown paper envelope clutching in her right hand, which is waving around in front of Santana's face.

"Uh... Britt?"

"What the _hell _is this?" Brittany spits, thrusting her fist clutching the envelope forward.

Santana blinks, just taking in the moist appearance of her wife. "Why are you wet?" She asks, diverting the conversation.

"My car broke down on the way over and so I walked even though it was raining," Brittany answers, even though she's already waving off it and turning the attention to the envelope. "Now answer me," she demands, shaking the paper. "What the hell is this?"

Santana takes in a deep breath and leans against the door, sucking in her lips. "Divorce papers," she whispers and closes her eyes at the way her entire body flinches at the words.

"I'm not stupid, Santana," Brittany narrows her eyes as she hisses the words, stepping toward Santana and over the threshold of the apartment. "I _can _read."

"Then why did you ask what they were?" Santana gets out, feeling frustration boil in her veins. "If you knew, why ask?"

Brittany lets out an aggravated huff, pushing past Santana and into the door, drops of water dripping from her clothing on to the floor. She stops in the living room, taking note of the other blonde in there but makes no move to greet Quinn or anything.

Not knowing what else to do, Santana just follows her wife in and stops in the archway connecting the hallway to the living room, crossing her arms over her chest and seeming wholly unimpressed.

"I asked, Santana, because they're _divorce _papers," Brittany yells at her, face enraged and eyes dark with anger. "Is that what you want? A divorce?"

Santana can't actually believe Brittany's yelling at her. How dare she just come in, disturb a rather calm evening of talking about Puck and how Quinn wants to have another baby with him, and start shouting all over the place, demanding answers here, there and fucking everywhere? How the fuck is that okay?

"Britt, I'm not sure if this has passed your notice or anything," she steps further into the room, toward her wife. "But you're sort of dating someone else so I hardly think this is that surprising."

It hurts to even say, but the anger must take over Brittany's notice because she doesn't even flinch, just yells back, "So!? That doesn't mean I want a divorce!"

Apparently, they'd completely forgotten about the presence of another person in the room because slowly, Quinn rises—visible in both Santana and Brittany's peripheral vision—and cuts in with a small whispered, "Well, I think I should leave you two alone."

But Brittany isn't having any of that, and Santana's almost shocked at her wife's outburst as Brittany spins around, throwing her hand out, palm open and fingers spread in a 'stop' motion toward the other blonde. "No, Quinn, you're staying here," she spits and even Quinn's eyebrows shoot up. "Your name's at the bottom of these papers so you get to listen to what _you've _caused."

Silently, Quinn just sits back down again, hands folding neatly in her lap as she keeps her head down. Santana just returns her attention to Brittany again, not forgetting where they left off.

"Well, excuse me Britt if dating someone else doesn't give the '_moving on_' impression."

Brittany stares at her like she can't believe Santana's saying this but honestly, Santana doesn't see a problem with it. Everything she's saying is true and it seems Brittany isn't quite getting that. She actually almost scoffs at that thought because how can Brittany _not _see this? Brittany _is _dating someone else, has probably slept with him—Santana's almost sick with the thought—and yet she's still trying to defend herself? Brittany doesn't have a fucking leg to stand on but boy is she going on strong.

"It's not like I'm going to marry Sam, Santana," Brittany comments, her voice hard but Santana just skips right by that.

"Then why the hell are you dating him!?" She screams back, throwing her hands up in the air, and it seems it's the right question because when she looks to Brittany, all Brittany can do let her mouth fall shut and look more than loss for words. It breaks something inside of Santana, gives her a weird surge of courage because she steps forward, almost closing the gap between their bodies but keeps a safe distance between them, just in case. "You've been seeing someone since we first broke up," she points out, listing them off with her fingers. "You've been going out with _our daughter _to the park, eating fucking ice creams like you're a fucking _family_—" Brittany tilts her head to the side, seeming confused as to how Santana knows that, "_And _you told me you were _happy _with him. So if that doesn't shout _divorce _then I don't know what the fuck does, Britt."

Brittany breathes heavily at her for a few long moments, just staring at her with narrowed, hard blue eyes and Santana would usually cower away at this. She never cowers away at anyone but seeing Brittany like this, so damn angry, it's actually sort of intimidating. Now with this anger pulsing through her, it's like she's towering over Santana, breathing fire out her nose and blowing steam out her damn ears.

But Santana stays put, waiting out the glare as Brittany begins slowly shaking her head. "Is that what you really want then?" She grunts, throwing the divorce papers at Santana's feet, and it's hard not to notice the way the light catches the ring on Brittany's left hand. The _wedding _ring that she's still wearing, even after Santana took hers of months ago. Suddenly she's feeling a lot more guilty. "You want a divorce?"

Something about the combination of the build up of this moment, of seeing Brittany still wearing her ring, and of the two options that this argument's going to lead to—one which includes Brittany completely out of Santana's life, and the other... Well, she doesn't want to think about it—Santana feels heat prick at her eyelids and a wetness trailing down her cheeks before she can stop it. She reaches up, wishing and hoping that Brittany hasn't seen it as she wipes it away with the back of her hand, but then blue eyes soften slightly and she knows it was definitely seen. Shit.

"No," she chokes out, holding back a sob begging for release. "I don't, but I have to let you go."

Out the corner of her eye, she sees Quinn stand again and Brittany sees it too, hissing, "Sit down, Quinn," to which Santana shakes her head and looks to her blonde friend, saying, "No, you can go," which makes Quinn just stand there like a deer in the headlights, not knowing what to do.

"No, she can't leave, Santana," Brittany chimes in again, twisting her body so she has Santana to her left and Quinn to her right. "_She _caused this," she points to Quinn and then glares at her with a hardness Santana's never seen. "_She's_ making this happen."

And that pisses Santana off further. "No, Quinn didn't cause this. _You _did. Quinn's just helping me end it because you've so clearly fucking moved on with no consideration to us or whether we're getting back together. Even if I didn't have Quinn, this would still be happening. I'd just have a different divorce lawyer."

Blue eyes flash back to her, and Brittany inches forward until their noses are almost touching, her mouth seething with anger. "You're the one that wanted to separate, Santana," she grits, lowly. "So don't blame this one me."

"You started dating Vagina Lips like a fucking _week _after I moved out!" Santana screeches, still up in Brittany's face. Hot breath pants against her cheek and she tries not to inhale the scent of Brittany wafting up from her skin. She knows that'll break her strength to argue. "And I said _separate, _not _fuck whoever you want._"

It's a low blow, and both of them know it, which is why Brittany flinches as Santana clamps her jaw, inwardly wishing she hadn't let those words slip.

"I haven't _fucked _Sam," Brittany spits back, nostrils flaring intensely so. "I couldn't bring myself to do it," she continues and something in Santana's chest softens. Her muscles relax a little but she knows not to back out of this. She can't. She's always been stubborn. "And I knew Sam for a month before we started even talking about feelings."

(Behind them, they miss Quinn sliding around them and slip out the door silently.)

A scoff pushes passed her lips as she steps back, running her tongue slowly over her lips but shaking her head. "Oh, well if it was a month then I guess that's okay," she retorts, sarcastically. "Because that's not rapid progression _at all."_

But Brittany's not giving into any of the sarcasm, she's not giving into Santana's anger and Santana kind of really fucking hates that because Brittany knows just how to piss Santana off. She knows just what to say or do, or what to do whenever she wants Santana to calm down and even though she hates to admit it, she's not as angry as before. Especially now knowing that Brittany couldn't bring herself to sleep with Sam. That's gotta mean something, right?

"It might have been quick." Brittany's voice is softer now as she takes a step forward, back into Santana's proximity. "It might have, but you didn't even try and fight for me. For all I knew you didn't love me, didn't want to get back together." Blue eyes gloss over and Santana gulps, audibly, watching those eyes flicker between each of hers. "You just moved out," she whispers, a little brokenly, shrugging a little, too. "And that was that."

The anger that was once in their conversation has now changed and twisted into sadness, but Santana still feels like she needs to put her point across. Whereas she knew Brittany was in the wrong before, Brittany's slowly pushing her into her point of view, showing Santana her side of the story and fuck, Santana is starting to see it.

"I shouldn't have had to fight for you, Brittany," she murmurs back, keeping her voice steady. "You're my wife. And of course I wanted to get back together," she says, rolling her eyes because seriously, how could she _not _want to get back together with Brittany. She knew the moment she moved into that apartment, and sat down with Alfie, dwelling in her loneliness that it was the wrong decision. She knew from the moment they stated they were separated that all she wanted to do was be back with Brittany. Back in love. Back in her arms.

"Of course I did," she repeats, voice softening. "I married you nine years ago and I'd marry you again, at any point in time, anywhere." Brittany's eyes soften completely, face relaxing and fists unclenching by her side. "We just needed space," Santana continues but then realizes how deep this conversation is and tries to back out. "But apparently _you _misinterpreted that."

"Don't say it like that," the blonde shoots back, but too soft for Santana to be comfortable with. "I didn't misinterpret it. We just never discussed properly what was going on so I assumed we'd broken up," she shrugs. "I assumed this was a break."

"We're not Ross and Rachel, Britt. Don't give me that break bullshit." Her voice intensifies now, getting a little stronger, a little angrier. She can feel it curdling in the pit of her stomach and sucks in a deep breath, readying herself for another argument. Apparently she's in one of those moods. "You knew what us separating meant and yet you still went off and started dating some guppy mouthed douchebag."

Brittany glares at her, shaking her head for what feels like the millionth time during this conversation. "So your answer to that was a divorce? I start seeing someone and you go for a divorce?"

"What the hell else was I supposed to do!?" Santana screeches, throwing her hands into her hair and pulling at the roots to release some of the frustration. "It was the only path left for us!" She spins around violently, breathing hard, nostrils flaring and jaw set. "There's no way we can sort it out if you're dating someone else!"

"I'm not dating him anymore, San!" Brittany yells and Santana's anger just disappears. Just like that. "And don't you dare put it all on me! We were never going to sort it out because you don't talk about feelings, never had and never will. We're _both _a part of this."

Santana just stares, blinking a few times as it sinks in. Brittany's _not_ dating Sam anymore? When the hell did that happen? "I don't get in touch with my feelings, nor do I talk about them because every time I do, I get screwed over. There's no point in talking about them." She crosses her arms over her chest. "And why aren't you dating Sam?"

"Because when I love someone, I love them wholly and irrevocably. I can't be with someone if I'm thinking about someone else constantly." Brittany shifts forward and Santana's arms drop, her defenses going with them. "And there is a point in talking about feelings when they're serious and everlasting. That's why I wanted to talk it out with you, San, to sort things out. Because that's what you do when you love someone," she finishes, voice drifting off into the smoothest it's ever been.

Santana eyes flutter shut. "So, what, you still love me?" She says, almost through a scoff, peeling open her eyes to stare into deep blue again.

Hurt flashes across Brittany's face. Her body sinks down, eyebrows furrowing and head cocks as she stares at her. "Are you serious?"

It's said softer than expected, and no matter how much Santana wants to say that she does know, she just doesn't anymore. There have been doubts for months and months, so the only response she can give is a weak shrug as she bites on her bottom lip and thumbs the hem of her shirt. Brittany gasps quietly, stepping forward and only moments later strong hands are cupping tanned cheeks, forcing brown eyes to blue.

"San... Do you really not know?"

Considering all the events that have happened in the past few months, considering their separation, Santana genuinely doesn't. She takes a deep breath, thinking for a few moments before she just shrugs again. A dry laugh pushes from Brittany's mouth as she looks away, but she keeps her hands on Santana's face, using the grip to return their eye contact a few seconds later.

"San..." Brittany's voice is soft, but it's strong at the same time. Her eyes rake over Santana's face, her features, her expression, taking it in and Santana swallows at the feel of the woman doing that again. It's been so long. "I once told you that I loved you more than I've ever loved anyone in this world." Santana winces at the past tense but Brittany holds strong, searching out her eyes when they flick away. They stare at each other, breathing in and out of each other a long moment before Brittany speaks. "And that still stands today, stronger than ever."

Santana's face softens and she looks at her with some sort of disbelief. She's so stupid. After everything they've been through, how could she have ever doubted her place in Brittany's world? They've been through denial, unofficial break ups, their fair share of arguments, and even after all of that, one little hiccup still managed to make her doubt them. It's impossible now, with blue eyes raking over her expression, cherishing the eye contact, to think any different, which is stupid because only a few moments ago she felt genuinely sure that Brittany didn't love her anymore.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"We're not perfect, San. We've never been perfect," Brittany lifts a shoulder and smiles sadly. Something cracks inside Santana's chest. "Not as children, not as teenagers, not as young adults and especially not as the adults we are now with a kid, but we're not supposed to be perfect. Love isn't about that," she says, searching Santana's eyes. "Love isn't about being perfect, it's about two imperfect people being perfect together."

Heart soaring, Santana leans into Brittany's touch, nuzzling gently and letting her eyes flutter when a thumb strokes across the soft skin of her cheek. She can feel the love now, spreading warmth and feeling throughout her body and she can't deny how much she's missed this. It's been so long, so long of feeling cold and empty that this is just irresistible.

"Santana, I know that we're still going to fight, and argue, and both of us are still going to have doubts now that we've been through what we have," she speaks honestly and Santana finds hands moving to brace herself upon Brittany's hips as their bodies shift toward each other without conscious thought. "In fact, I guarantee that, but I know if I don't ask you to love me again, don't ask you to be mine again, I'm going to regret it for the rest of my life." Brittany sucks in her lips nervously, breath shuddering and Santana just waits it out, watching her. "Because our kind of love doesn't happen everyday, Santana, and I may not be the brightest duck in the bathtub—" A protest almost leaves Santana's mouth but a finger presses over her lips, shushing her. "—But I'd be taking it to a whole other level if I didn't at least try and see if you could love me again." A heavy beat of silence passes between them and Brittany shifts her weight from one leg to the other, face growing more and more anxious by the second. "Please," she begs.

A smile tugs up at the corners of Santana's lips as she looks up, chewing the side of her cheek as she takes in everything. She doesn't know how, but after sixteen years of being together—it was an 'unofficial break up' so that ridiculous period in the first year of college totally doesn't count—after twenty seven years of friendship, and after nine years of marriage, somehow Brittany _still _knows exactly what to say and exactly what to do. Still knows how to make Santana fall in love with her all over again even if she never fell out of love with her in the first place.

It's a funny thing, because she heard of people falling in love, and a few years down the line they claim that they _fell_ in love all that time ago, but Santana's never been able to say that with Brittany. Throughout their entire time together, she's always been _falling_ in love, because it's hard not to continuously be falling when it's Brittany.

And she doesn't know how Brittany can ask her to love her again, because she never stopped. That's just not possible.

Still, she has her own hesitations.

"What about Sam?" She asks, even though she really _doesn't _want to. "I thought—" the breath catches in her throat, tears forming behind her eyes but she forces them back. Brittany's hands drift from her cheeks to the hinge of her jaw, cupping lightly. "I thought you said you were happy with him," she gets out, not meeting blue eyes.

The smile that comes across Brittany's face is sad, but there's something hopeful in the way her eyes flick across Santana's face, from her lips, over her nose, around her brows and then back down to her eyes.

"I gave my heart away a long time ago, San, and..." she swallows. "And I never got it back," she explains and there's nothing but pure sincerity in her tone. "So how was I supposed to give it to someone else?"

Santana sighs, head tilting to the sigh as she looks at her; like _really _looks at her. Like she's trying to see down into the bottom of a stream-bed, or like she's trying to read something that's just that little bit too far away, and then she sees everything. All of their past, the bad, the good, the sad, the happy, comes flashing back to her in an instant; stemming from the first time they met in 2001 to the first time they kissed 2007. From the first time they had sex in 2009, to the first time they said those three little words in 2011.

She sees everything, including the day Brittany told her she was pregnant to the day their little baby girl was born, and throughout all of these memories, she remembers how she felt. Each memory brings a new wave of feelings crashing down on her and she remembers every tiny detail. Even down to how she looked at Brittany or how Brittany looked at her. How she knew it was more than just a crush and how she knew there'd never be a moment in her life when she wouldn't love her.

And with all of that rolling through her mind, she straightens up and leans in that little bit, whispering, "I love you," with every ounce of her body _meaning _it.

Brittany's smile is soft, sweet and so loving, and Santana exhales slowly when Brittany brushes back a lock of her hair, blue eyes tracing the movement before they fall back on down. "I know."

There's something so strong about that, so final that Santana finds herself worrying for what feels like the millionth time this year as the 'what ifs' flush into her brain. She breathes through the tears threatening to spill and looks up, sure and steady as she speaks.

"This isn't gonna be easy."

Brittany takes a deep breath, the corners of her lips curving upward. "When has it ever been?" She quirks back and yeah, she has a point.

Santana just grins back and it feels like when Brittany's smile fades, her eyes hopeless and adoring, it gives her permission; so she leans up, tilting her chin and slides her hand around the back of Brittany's neck and presses their lips together. There's a flutter of movement, a slight shift and then Brittany's sucking in her bottom lip and murmuring 'I love you too' through the kiss. Santana smiles, letting herself feel this moment, treasure it and slides her hands up through blonde hair, pulling her wife further into her, deepening the kiss and pushing her tongue past Brittany's lips when Brittany's tongue traces around hers.

It feels like a beginning, a new start for them and Santana lets out a moan as Brittany's hands slip beneath her shirt, nails scratching at her abs and reaching up to the underside of her bra. It feels so new but old at the same time, the curves of Brittany's body, the way her tongue flicks out against the roof of her mouth and how if Santana reaches around, fingers dancing along the skin of Brittany's lower back, she'll pull a deep guttural moan from her wife and everything will intensify.

And so she does just that, earning that moan she so desperately wants and just lets herself go, feeling everything in this moment.

She feels all of it as Brittany walks them backward toward the sofa, letting Santana drop down before straddling her hips. Santana feels the new-old shape of Brittany's body, one she's missed and yearned for, for months and months; she feels every inch of soft skin, lets her palms glide over it as her hands tear away the fabric until they're panting against each others mouths. stripped down bare.

Their skin glistens where they touch and nails claws at her skin as she pushes two fingers into Brittany, watching in awe at the way Brittany's eyes flutter, how her arms curl around her neck a little tighter and how the steady thud of her heart beat quickens, misses a beat and stumbles as her hips begin to roll against Santana's hand, her forehead scrunching together with every thrust.

Santana lets herself feel everything, _love _everything and when Brittany comes, she does so with forehead pressed against Santana's, her hands clenching in dark hair as the syllable of Santana's name pours from her lips. Santana marvels in it, dwells in it, knowing what it's like _not _to have Brittany like this and she swears, even as Brittany rolls her and pushes her back onto the sofa, slowly removing each piece of clothing and kissing her way down her body until a tongue is stroking through slick heat, that she'll never let there be a time where she doubts them again.

Because they're meant to be. They're _supposed_ to be together, even if things try and drive them apart and she knows her heart only beats for Brittany. It only ever has and that very thought's confirmed when the pressure at the base of her spine gets too much and white spots appear behind her eyelids at the same time warm lips cover hers, her orgasm punching through her.

She comes hard and heavy, her scream muffled by Brittany's lips as two, long slender fingers slide inside her, prolonging the pleasure. Then she comes for the second time only moments later with her eyes locked onto Brittany's, her hands tangled in blonde hair and her nose squashed against Brittany's, and finally she comes for the third time with Brittany, sliding her hand between them and rubbing practiced circles over Brittany's clit until Brittany's body is arching into hers, her own fingers driving deeper into Santana as they pant hot breath against each others mouths.

After, when they're both spent and exhausted, they stumble to the bedroom and Brittany collapses onto Santana the second they're beneath the sheets, her face burying into the tanned, sweaty skin of Santana's neck as her arm curls around her waist.

And they fall asleep like that, with Santana throwing her arm lazily around Brittany's shoulders and back as their legs tangle further down the bed, breathing into each other.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **If There's Love (Just Feel It) [3/3]  
**Characters: **Santana Lopez, Brittany Pierce, Sam Evans, Quinn Fabray  
**Rating: **R/NC-17  
**Length: **4.2k**  
Summary:**It's a well known fact that fifty percent of all marriages end with separation. Santana just never thought she and Brittany would fit into that figure.

/

In the morning when she wakes, she's alone in bed.

Panic seizes her chest but it's only there for a moment before Brittany's skipping into the room, wearing one of Santana's old sweatshirts and well, not much else. She's got a box of Lucky Charms grasped in her right hand, and her hair's all wild and tousled from lasts nights activities, as well as her impromptu walk in the rain to get here.

Santana smiles at the sight because boy, has she missed this. And even though she probably shouldn't get too comfortable, considering their status at the moment, she just lets herself enjoy the moment.

Brittany skips across the bedroom with a smile on her face and lies down on the bed on her stomach between Santana's legs, letting the box of cereal drop beside Santana's hips. She shifts up, and Santana reaches for the covers to cover her bare chest, but Brittany just shoots her a smirk, shakes her head and yanks it back down again, tucking it beneath her chest, covering Santana's bottom half but keeps her entire torso bare, full breasts, toned abs, tanned skin and all.

Blood rushes to her cheeks, memories of their teenage years flooding back to her, but then lips, warm and soft press to the skin above her belly button and she relaxes.

Brittany pulls the box of cereal, peeling open the lid and reaching inside the bag to grab a handful before folding the box back up and dropping the cereal on to Santana's stomach. It's a little weird, but Santana's seen the woman doing weirder things and so just goes with it, running her hands through blonde hair, smoothing it down as Brittany begins picking out the marshmallows, popping them into her mouth and chewing them with a satisfied hum.

"You hungry?" Santana says softly, nodding to the cereal. "And have you never heard of a bowl?"

A grin is flashed her way as Brittany nods. "I have but I prefer this," she chimes back. "D'you want some?"

Santana chuckles, but not enough to disturb the carefully sorted piles on her stomach. "No, thank you. I like mine with milk," she points out, lifting a brow. "You know, like _normal _people."

A pinch is delivered to her side, and she flinches, jerking away and knocking some of the cereal on to the bed. It pulls a groan from deep within and she flings an arm over her face, knowing that's going to be a bitch to clean up.

"Britt," she whines, drawing it out.

Brittany giggles from below, smiling into the kisses she presses to Santana's stomach, lower this time, a few inches south of her belly button and she must feel the way Santana's stomach clenches, but she ignores it, instead choosing to continue eating after Santana's breath hitches. Tease.

"What?" She chirps, smirking when Santana takes her hand away from her face and throws her a look. "I'm just eating."

"First of all, you know what you're doing," Santana points out with a raised brow, waving her finger to how close Brittany is to a certain area. "And second of all, I'm going to be finding cereal in my bed for weeks to come now because of you."

She points to the several pieces of cereal spread out across the white sheets but Brittany just grins up at her, pushing a few marshmallows to the side and picking up a piece of cereal instead. She pops it into her mouth, obviously trying to distract from the way her eyes are clouding over, but Santana sees it. She's always been able to see it and knows what that means. So she slides her hand around Brittany's jaw, pressing her forefinger to the tip of her chin and applying the lightest of pressures until Brittany's staring up at her.

"What was that look for?"

Brittany shrugs as much as she can in that position but continues chewing. "Nothing," she tries, but Santana arches a perfectly shaped brow. "Seriously, it's nothing."

"Don't give me that, Britt," she whispers. "Please, just tell me."

Brittany stays with her eyes locked on the cereal she's poking around Santana's stomach and Santana just watches, seeing the telltale signs of a serious conversation coming on. There's a little wrinkle between Brittany's eyebrows, her lips are pressed together, the left side slightly sucked in from where she's chewing it and Santana decides just to wait. If it's serious, which yeah, it's going to be, she needs to wait it out because the other times when she's been impatient, it's lead to arguments which in the long run, lead them to the past several months of separation.

After a long moment, Brittany takes in a deep breath and blue eyes dart up nervously, flicking down just as quick. "Does that mean you're going to continue living here?"

She sounds smaller than ever, and Santana tilts her head to the side, instantly picking up on the real question there. _Are you not coming home? _

"I don't know," she breathes, honestly. They may have sorted it out a little, but there's still a lot to go through and she's not sure taking the big step and moving back in would be the best idea. It could screw them up again. "What do you think?"

Blue eyes roam over her face as a pink tongue sweeps across equally pink lips, and Santana sucks in a breath, hoping that this conversation is going to go can't even begin to imagine what will happen if this _doesn't _go well. All she wants is Brittany, to hold her, to love her, to hug and kiss her and settle down with her on the sofa after they've put their daughter to bed. All she wants is just to be a family again, but she doesn't know how to get to that point.

And it seems Brittany doesn't either because she's resting her chin on Santana's stomach, her hands pressed flat to her abdomen and she's just staring, eyes darting between eyes.

Then she shifts and wets her lips again. "I think that—hold on," she cuts in, balling her fists and pushing them into the mattress either side of Santana's hips to help her get up. Once she's slightly more propped up, she scoops the remaining cereal off Santana's stomach, picks up the box and dumps it in there before letting the cereal box drop over the side of the bed.

Santana just watches, not quite understanding how someone can be so beautiful doing something rather mundane. It's strange, but Santana's known weirder things and honestly, she's just glad that she _can _watch Brittany once again. The last few months of their relationship she didn't, she took their relationship for granted. But now they're back together, they're fixing things and she's missed Brittany so much that she just wants to let herself soak in every moment she can get, no matter how boring they may be.

The bed bounces slightly as Brittany sits upright, crossing her legs and shifting so she's as close to Santana without being _on _her. Santana sits up too, clutching the sheet to her chest and tucking two bits beneath her arms because she knows they'll never get through a conversation if there's even the slightest bit of supposed-to-be-hidden flesh on show. Which is probably why the second she sits up, Brittany pulls the sheet toward her, covering her lap and the softest part of her too because from Santana's new height, she could see _everything _and damn, it may have been for a second but she can already feel herself getting turned on.

Brittany smirks at her, then winks as she clucks her tongue and Santana chuckles, finally picking her eyes up from where they'd drifted down to the part Brittany just covered up. Damn it.

"Okay," she says, sliding her hand across the sheet to grab at Santana's. "Serious talk."

Santana breathes in, suddenly feeling nervous. "Okay," she nods. "Let's do it."

Something flashes in blue eyes but Brittany just smiles and shakes her head. "We've already done that, and we'll do it after," she says and brown eyes roll playfully. "But first we need to talk."

"I know we do," Santana agrees, tangling her fingers through pale ones. "So..."

"So... You don't know whether you're going to live here anymore."

Santana nods but frowns as she ducks her head. She begins toying with the fingers in her lap, smoothing the backs of hers over Brittany's as she tries to explain herself. "Yeah, I just—I love you, Britt—"

"I love you, too," Brittany chimes in, bouncing a little.

She laughs through her nose, her head now ducking to her chest in a shy manner. The hands in her lap tug, pulling her own into Brittany's lap and a thumb strokes over her palm to calm her down. Her chest fills with warmth at the gesture; Brittany's always known how to calm her down and just like it always did before, it works now.

"I love you, Britt, but I just—" she starts again, the words catching in her throat as she tilts her head up, meeting blue eyes again. "I don't wanna mess us up again," she confesses, her heart beating impossibly loud in her chest. "Things are still the same with me. I still work late, I still have a lot of work, and I won't be able to _always _be around." Her eyes search blue ones, her mouth drying the longer she speaks. "That's just my life, and if we couldn't get through it before then... Then what makes you think we can get through it now?"

It must be a good point, because Brittany lowers her head, sucking her bottom lip and Santana can see the way her lip quivers as she sucks in a deep, unsteady breath.

"I don't know," she says, lifting a shoulder. Her eyes flick up, meeting dark ones. "I don't know, San, but—but I know I love you, and I don't wanna be without you again," she says, shaking her head. "I didn't like it—I _hated _it—and I don't want it again."

Santana's heart flutters at those words, but she still stands by her point. She doesn't want to fuck this up again. She doesn't think she could handle splitting up with Brittany again.

"I don't wanna be without you either, Britt," she says, shifting their hands to slide her fingers through Brittany's. "But at the same time I love you too much to let you put up with me again. To put up with my shit, my work schedule, my mood swings." She looks her in the eye. "You deserve better than that Brittany, and I'm not sure I can give you it."

Fingers pinch at her chin, tipping her head up and it's only now she realizes there are tears in her eyes. She swallows against them, against her thickened throat and listens as Brittany speaks.

"Babe, I put up with your shit long before we ever separated," she tells her and she laughs a little, wiping her tears on her shoulder. "And I deserve _you, _so don't say that."

Santana smiles and sniffs, grabbing the hand on her face and threading their fingers together again. "Then we did we ever separate in the first place?"

Brittany takes in a shaky breath, her eyes flicking up to meet dark ones. "I don't, I guess—I think we just needed some time," she says, swallowing audibly. "I think we just needed to figure some things out together, you know?" She asks but not really. "Figure out what was going on."

Santana's not really sure what that means, but Brittany didn't say _I don't love you anymore _so it's going good so far. "So..." she starts, ignoring that her throat's closing. "Have you figured it out?"

Meeting her eyes once more, Brittany bites down on her bottom lip as the corners of them curve up. "Yeah," she nods. "I've figured out what's going on," she releases one of their hands and taps the left side of her chest, above her breast. "I've figured out what's going on in here. Not that I needed to second guess it, it turns out," she laughs a little through her words. "I've always known." Santana smiles and she dips her head, grinning shyly, looking up through lashes. "What about you?"

"I know that I love you," Santana whispers in all honesty. "I know that, and I know I'm going to do everything I can to change because I want to be with you, want to be the perfect, and want to have our family back together again. Be a proper family."

Hands are suddenly cupping her cheeks as she dips her head, sadness thrumming through her chest at her words.

"I don't want you to change, Santana," Brittany says, staring straight at her. "I don't want you to change at all."

"I need to change my life," Santana mutters, softly, the hands dropping from her face to rub at the skin of her forearms. "I need to—have to—because you and Elena mean more to me than anything else in this world, and my job is just a job." She swallows and shakes her head, eyes darting between each of Brittany's. "I need to put more time into my family, and if my boss doesn't like it, then he can go fuck himself," she shrugs and Brittany laughs through her nose, but then her brows furrow seconds later.

"I don't want you to quit your job because of me and Ele—"

"It's not because of you two," Santana cuts in. "I mean, it is in some ways," she admits. "But it's _my _decision if I quit, Britt, and my boss would be stupid to let me go anyway," she shrugs, slightly boasting and melting when Brittany giggles at her, stroking over her jaw down to her chin. "I'll ask him for time off, or for less hours, and hopefully they'll give me, but you have to understand Britt, I can't control _every _aspect of my life." She swallows thickly again, sucking in her lower quivering lip. "I can handle most of it, but there are some things that are going to be difficult for a while because I have no control over them. I mean, if you can't deal with that—"

"I can," Brittany interjects, wanting to quickly correct her. "We can work through it, deal with it. We just need to talk," she whispers and Santana nods. Talking is good. Talking is what they didn't do toward the end of their marriage and what lead them to their separation. "Communication is vital, San, but I just want us again," she shifts forward, straightening up and throwing her legs over Santana's, fitting her hips over hers and bracketing them. Santana's hands fall to her thighs, stroking up and down the soft skin. "I just want us, and Elena, and to be in love and to have a family again."

Santana lets out a long exhale and smiles up as hands stroke away the hair falling across her face. Brittany leans down, presses their noses together and winds her arms around her neck, breathing warm breath onto her lips.

"We were always in love, Britt," she whispers and Brittany's eyes gloss over, narrowing as she smiles and then closes the gap between them, the smile faltering the moment their lips touch.

They don't kiss for long though, just long enough that Santana's head dizzies and just light enough that Santana craves more already. Her hands slip up and around to the small of Brittany's back, then down a little and she leans forward into the kiss, laughing when Brittany starts giggling against her mouth as she squeezes her ass. But then Brittany pulls back abruptly, sucking her lips into her mouth and Santana's hands slide back around to her thighs, stroking over the skin there instead.

"Does this mean you're moving back home then?" Brittany asks and Santana's heart thuds loudly against her chest at the suggestion. She feels like she's going to faint because that's all she's wanted, apart from getting back with Brittany and having their family together once more, just to be in a house that's theirs, that welcomes her.

"Is that okay?" Her voice wavers a little. "I mean, if not—"

Brittany leans in and sucks on Santana's bottom lip quickly before pulling away. "You don't have to ask," she mutters against her mouth. "We've been waiting to come back."

Santana grins, so wide it may not actually ever return to normal and fingers slide into her hair, tangling through it as she stares up at her wife. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, San," Brittany whispers, face softening completely as she breathes into her. "Yeah."

She's so preoccupied with the overwhelming rush of happiness and excitement buzzing through her that she doesn't even register being pushed back onto the bed until Brittany's mouth is on hers, tongue sliding into her mouth and stroking hotly on her own and then... Well, she can't really pay attention to anything apart from Brittany's body on top of hers.

/

They tell Elena at Santana's 35th birthday party a few days later, organized promptly by Brittany.

(She really is the most amazing thing to ever walk the earth.)

Elena gasps, claps, jumps, spins in circles and then finally leaps into Santana's arms, tugging Brittany over until they're in a family hug. She squeezes them hard, and Santana smiles, letting her eyes flutter shut and all care about people watching them (since there's like twenty in their back garden) just disappears, especially when Elena leans into her ear and whispers, "I knew you'd come home."

Santana pulls back, and Brittany grins at her, but she just looks back at their daughter with a confused expression. "How'd you know, Squirt?"

Elena grins at her, wide and infectious. "Because I wished for it on a star every night."

Even though Santana rolls her eyes, inside she melts and she kisses her daughter sloppily on the temple before lowering her to the floor. Across the room, she feels someone look at her and sees Quinn standing there, a knowing eyebrow arched and a smile on her face as she mouths '_I knew it too.' _

In true Santana Lopez fashion, she rolls her eyes again and makes sure Elena and the other kids aren't looking before flipping Quinn the bird and turning back around, arms looping around Brittany's waist from behind as she buries her nose into the nap of Brittany's neck. She's kind of embarrassed to know that other people believed in their love when she had doubts, and so she just hides her face. Not to mention it gives her an excuse to touch Brittany again and recently, she hasn't been able to go an hour without doing so, but it's not like Brittany minds.

As that thought goes through her mind, Brittany leans back into her, pressing her arms gently over the ones on her waist and she begins swaying them lightly as Santana presses a soft kiss to her skin, before resting a chin on her shoulder and finding her parents walking up to them in front of her. It's then that she realizes everyone's now crowded around, wide grins on their faces and she frowns, confused, glancing around to see what the big deal is but then her parents are grinning at her and stretching out a cake full of lit candles toward her.

A chorus of 'happy birthday' follows, and even though she's sure she's as red as a tomato (because let's be honest, being sung to in your birthday in front of a whole group of people _is _embarrassing) she thanks everyone and asks Elena to help her blow out the candles. Brittany looks at her with such love and affection after that, and she knows it was a good idea as she pulls her hair aside, Brittany doing the same to Elena and they both blow out the candles on the count of three.

Everyone claps, Santana's embarrassed even more, and it's a whole process until everyone's left staring at her again as the children run off to play with Alfie and she sort of blanks on this one. She doesn't know what comes after blowing out a cake—there usually isn't anything she thinks—and as she looks to Brittany, she finds out that Brittany doesn't know what the hell is going on either. A frown pushes at her eyebrows, but then Quinn steps up, holding up a completely different cake and gestures for them both to lean over to read the icing spelling out a few words on the cake.

'CONGRATULATIONS YOU TWO' it says and they're not stupid, they both know what it means.

Santana glances to Brittany, and she falls in love a little bit more when she sees watery blue eyes staring straight back. But instead of crying too—because she's had her fill of embarrassment today—she just winds one arm around Brittany's waist, the other reaches up and wraps a hand around Brittany's neck as she pulls her into her, kissing her in front of everyone.

There's a chorus of cheers and they both giggle into the kiss as Brittany's hands find their own places on Santana's body, but then they're kissing again, a little deeper this time, and honestly, Santana forgets that everyone's there.

This has been the greatest fucking birthday _ever._

/

Later that night when everyone's gone, and they've managed to clear up the majority of the mess, Santana slumps down on the sofa lengthways, one leg hanging off the side of the couch as her head rests against the cushion. Seconds later, she feels a dip in the cushions by her hips and then a body's draping over hers, a head burrowing into the crook of her neck as her own hands come up to stroke down Brittany's spine. She hums, stretching up for a second to kiss Brittany's hair and then relaxes once more.

She can't believe that a year ago today, she was sitting in an empty apartment all alone, weeping over what she thought was a failed marriage and staring at a blank wall. She can't believe it's changed this much. Like, she's here now, and the love of her life is lying on top of her and their child is asleep a few rooms away; she's happier than she's ever been, her boss isn't going to fire her and she's going to be given more holiday's a year considering her work has been astounding for years, which means she gets to spend more time with the perfection that is her family, and fuck, she can't think how life could get any better than it is right now.

It's just so hard to believe how different things were this time last year, and as that thought passes through her mind, Brittany shuffles on top of her, kissing up her neck and jaw until they're face to face, lips hovering over each other. The most beautiful, loving blue eyes are staring down at her, and she reaches up to hold blonde locks of hair behind Brittany's hair to get a good look at her because she can't believe that this is all real. That she's _this _lucky, and shit, if she could go back to the old her, the one a year and a half ago, when everything in her marriage started going wrong, she'd kick the crap out of that Santana for not seeing what she had.

"Are you okay?" Brittany whispers and Santana laughs through an exhale, pulling Brittany's face down to kiss her.

They kiss and kiss, Santana's hand sliding beneath Brittany's shirt and their tongues stroking languidly against each other, and they both begin to smile against each others mouths because they can do this again. They can do this and it feels like they're teenagers again; it feels like their love is new and what makes it amazing is that she can't ever see it changing now.

And she even pulls back, breaks the kiss despite her reluctance, to tell Brittany that yeah, she's definitely more than okay but at that moment, soft footsteps make their way down the stairs and they both turn their heads to find Elena standing in the doorway, blinking sleepily, clutching her teddy bear and yawning.

With one last soft kiss, they both shuffle and Brittany presses against the back of the sofa as Elena wordlessly clambers on to Santana, lying down on Santana's other side—it's a big couch—and Santana wraps both arms around her girls, kissing them both of them on the head because yeah, okay would be an understatement. She's got the most beautiful, loving wife, the most incredible daughter, and she herself is happier than she ever thought was possible.

She's good.

She's fucking fantastic, actually.

So with a sigh, she nods and strokes her palm up Brittany's arm, scratching lightly over the fabric of her shirt as she whispers, "Yeah, Britt, I'm perfect... I'm just perfect."

_/_

**The End**_  
_


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